Factory Town is like a lot of other places. It has a day. It has a night. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes it shines. It gets hot. It gets cold. People move in. People move out. Business can boom. Business can die. You can get hired. You can get fired. People get born. People get dead. People remember. People forget. Souls are saved. Souls are lost. Factory Town does not go away when you sleep. Sure, you dream. Sometimes you dream of Factory Town. Sometimes you dream of that other place.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Rick and Erica get a Big Brass Bed

It was the fall of 1969 or maybe 1970. It was one or the other. It was not both unless history repeats itself without bothering to let a person know. Well anyway the place was Iowa City. Rick and Erica were in need of a new bed.

Rick use to play in a blues band. Played a Hammond B3. Until it was stolen he said. Someone said he traded it for some dope. I don't really know. Anyway I gave him my harmonica. I could not play it anyway. That became his new instrument of choice. Rick was my roommate. We rented a place on Dubuque street from a guy from Burlington. The landlord would show up unannounced to inspect the place and would always accuse us of burning incense or cooking cabbage. Both of these acts were strictly prohibited in the lease.

Erica and her friend Pam lived nearby. Erica was from California. Her mother would send her a box of bagels and onion rolls from some Hollywood bakery. They would arrive every Monday morning by special delivery.

Well one night Rick and Erica broke their bed. I only vaguely recall the details but let's just say that due to the combined gravitational pull of Rick and Erica the bed collapsed. So they needed a new bed. Rick and Erica went to some second hand stores to look for the right one. They looked at several beds at several different stores. They found a nice big brass bed at a place about a mile away from the apartment. Now, none of us owned a pick-up truck or even a car. I take that back. Eddie had a VW bug. The second hand store wanted to charge $10 to deliver the bed. Rick was a real tightass and figured that the money was better spent on several cases of Bud.

So the only thing to do was push it down the street. It was a big brass bed and it had rollers. About twenty of us showed up to move the bed. It was your typical group of freaks. After taking the bed out of the store we reassembled it. Then Erica and her friend Pam made the bed. They put sheets, pillows and a big bed spread on it. I don't recall if they were a matched set. Rick and Erica climbed into the bed. Eddie had brought a case of Bud which he put under the covers. Rick and Erica each cracked open a Bud. We then pushed the big brass bed on rollers down the street.

I remember that it did not corner that well. Some of the freaks pushing the big brass bed on rollers were not much help. A few tried to hitch rides on the bed but Rick kicked them off. A couple of times the big brass bed on rollers got stuck in small potholes in the street. It took some extra muscle to get them out.

So about half way there a cop drives by. We explained what was going on. He escorted us the rest of the way with his light flashing. Did not even give us a ticket for failure to get a parade permit.

Well that was a long time ago. Rick died about fifteen years ago out in Denver. When he wasn't running some scam or other he was a professional sports gambler. Erica moved back to California and does not have to have her bagles and onion rolls delivered by special delivery anymore.